


Azjahn's Harp

by Leafy_Largos



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game), Guild Wars Series (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, finding shinies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29087568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leafy_Largos/pseuds/Leafy_Largos
Summary: Azjahn the largos happens across a strange artefact in the mud.
Kudos: 1





	Azjahn's Harp

Azjahn swam through the vast, dark abyss with a skip in his stroke. He could swim and dance and hunt all through the depths without ever reaching a boundary to limit him and he revelled in it. His hunt however would take him to a different place, so strange and restrictive and alien to him. Yet there was something about this oppressive world that enchanted him. Everything was so different to what he knew that there was little that was not a marvel to him.

He meandered upward and the light from above grew ever brighter. He was getting close. He slowed his breathing as the comforting pressure of the water became less and less. It was easy for the inexperienced to hurt themself by racing upward. Azjahn knew better, now. 

It took less than an hour after he started drifting upward for him to be a stone's throw away from the surface, and coming face to face with a vast rock wall. He recognised it from the last time he was here, hunting. He had initially thought there was little sport in hunting that which was already dead, but since his first visit to Orr, he had learned to take the term 'dead' with a touch of brine. 

He approached the rocks and clung to a spot about ten feet below the surface. After such a long swim, anchoring himself was almost disorientating. He let his fins relax at last, draping down his back limply as he took a moment to recover from the long journey and to readjust to the sensation of something solid against him. His breathing was heavy, sucking in great lungfuls of water. It was so warm here, too warm.. 

Azjahn pulled his mask from his bag, slipping it over his face and locking it in place and sucking in great gillfuls of the artificially cold water it circulated. It was a pleasant respite. He scaled the wall using his hands and gently kicking his feet, until the bizarre feeling of his head breaching the water's membrane washed over him. His head felt somehow light and yet immeasurably heavy at the same time. He focused and blinked the feeling away before poking his head up, peering at the world above for the first time in almost a year. It was still and dark, as he had remembered Orr. He had not much enjoyed this place, so he was grateful that this was just a stop along his journey. So barren compared to the other places he had seen. He kicked off from the rocks and submerged with a twirl and a flourish, sweeping in an arc as he started his journey around the coast. 

A day passed. He killed some krait and various undead creatures, explored some shipwrecks, collected some small shiny discs and gemstones, and accidentally scared an elderly quaggan half to death. The waters had become desperately warm as he left Orr and headed north, but that was the price of chasing a good hunt. He would acclimatise soon, he reasoned. 

The river he was now traversing became shallower and thinner by the moment, to the point where he could no longer comfortably stretch his fins, and he had finally become too annoyed at the algae tickling at him. He pulled himself to the edge of the bank and looked around. Twilight was drawing over the land above as night drew in, and he pulled himself up and out of the water, to stand somewhat uncertainly on his legs. It always took him a few moments to adjust to… well, everything. The way he had to carry his weight, the strange crispness of the sounds, the sting of the air against his skin. Even the trickle of the water as it ran through his armour and dripped onto the bank felt unusual to him. He took a few steps, the metal claws of his armoured feet tearing at the mud.

Azjahn ducked low as a glint caught his eye, but there was no enemy laying in wait. Instead it was simply some old, discarded… thing. Azjahn didn’t know what it was. He looked around again and listened and, when he was sure that he was alone, approached the strange thing half buried in the mud. It was unlike anything he had seen, an ornate metal U decorated with molded leaves and vines, strung together with garrotes. He had seen surface dwellers use weapons similar, to fire sharp projectiles and pierce their prey, but Azjahn had never seen ones with more than one string.

He dropped to his haunches and carefully prised the artefact out of the dirt. As frivolous as its decoration was, it was a handsome thing and he wondered what manner of weapon it might be. He brushed the clumps of mud and twigs from it, catching one of the garrotes with his gauntlet. With a start, he dropped the thing back to the bank and stared. Such an odd sound had come from it, an almost pleasant note like the chords of a choir readying themselves to sing. He picked up the thing again and tried a different string. Another pleasant and yet different sound rang out. 

He tried all of the strings and found himself enraptured by it and when he ran a finger across them all, the thing in his hands sang so sweetly. Behind his mask, his eyes were wide with delight. He ungracefully dropped from his haunches onto his rear to pluck at the strings more, his fins awkwardly splaying out to the sides and dragging deep welts in the mud as he tried all manner of paces and combinations. The thing sang and sang, and with every pluck he figured out a new mix of things to test and amuse himself with. 

Somewhere deep within those woods, he had a hunt to chase down. His other targets had been easy to deal with though, disappointingly so, and he was far ahead of schedule. No one would notice, he assured himself, if he spent an hour or so working at this strange puzzle so stay he did.

Azjahn did not move again until the rise of the sun shimmering on the river distracted him from his experiments. He had spent all night out of the water without realising and when he moved his skin was dry and uncomfortable. He groaned and tried not to move too much as he slipped back into the water where he could stretch properly and hydrate his skin. His heart heavied at the realisation that he should, perhaps, move on and carry on with his purpose.

Azjahn washed himself and ate before pulling himself back onto the river bank. At last, he made his way into the forest to carry on with his hunt, but not without the weight of one strange singing device added to his pack.

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted to https://toyhou.se/~literature/71596.azjahns-harp.


End file.
